


Need it Like Air

by TimmyJaybird



Category: Hannibal (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M, it's the actors not the characters, just be aware
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 03:11:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While filming an intimate scene between Will and Hannibal for a future season, Hugh starts getting aroused. Blaming it on friction, Mads offers to help him get used to it with a little practice. However, the good intention only makes the problem worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need it Like Air

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually a prompt fill. An Anon sent me, "I neeeeed Hugh Dancy and Mads Mikkelsen sexy fics D: Like they find out there's going to be a rough but intimate sex scene and Hugh is nervous and keeps getting "friction" erections during the shots and Mads tells him it's normal but later they both try to rehearse to figure out how they could both be comfortable and keep it from happening but attraction and smut ensues! Slow burnnnnn please. I need it like air :(" and I decided to hell with it, here I go. I've only ever written a prompt fill ficlet for these two, so this was an experience.
> 
> This isn't meant to offend anyone. Lord knows I think the world of these two.

He hooked a leg along the back of Mads’s- no, in that moment _Hannibal’s_ thighs- one arm reaching back up grasp his hair and tug gently. He got a quick response, a mouth pressed to his neck and it was _too real_ , and he arched up, vaguely remembering he was supposed to, feeling the fabric of his underwear getting tighter along his groin.

Mads pushed up against him, harder, and Hugh jerked back, his head bumping on the headboard. He lost character then, cursing and reaching up to try and push away from it, heard someone yell _cut_ very loudly, and Mads was backing off him, reaching a hand out to help him sit up as Hugh rubbed his hand along the top of his head.

“You okay?” Hugh nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He grabbed at the sheets and tried to pull one over his lap, swallowing the lump in his throat. The knock on his head had helped to dull his erection, but he was still half hard and worried it’d be blatantly noticeable in his underwear. Mads gave him a look, the kind where he raised one eyebrow and seemed _about_ to ask a question, but held it in at the last second. Hugh always wondered what the question would have been.

He wanted to stop, he wondered if there was a way to convince everyone to shoot this scene tomorrow. Make up on the scar on his belly and those on Mads’s wrists could be easily done again, and he knew Lara was waiting to film her following scene.

“Hugh, everything alright?” He looked towards the lights, licked his lips, and made his decision silently.

“Honestly, I’m a tad dizzy,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his head again. There was a nod behind the lights, then a call to get Lara ready, they’d return to this scene tomorrow. Hugh breathed a sigh of relief, before he felt a hand slipping back into his hair, pushing his fingers away to press along the tender spot. He looked at Mads, who had a concerned look, was watching him, and felt color rising to his cheek. He pushed his arm away, trying to pull in on himself, hating the heat that emanated from where he touched. “I’m fine, really. Just need to get down. Get some pants on.”

Mads said nothing, but watched as Hugh took one of the sheets, _for modesty’s sake_ , and kept it wrapped about his waist as he left the set.

*

Hugh had put it behind him later that evening, sat with the script for the episode they were filming, was reading the scene _after_ the sex, when there was a knock at his door. He looked at the clock, frowned because it was almost midnight, and set the script aside, climbing off the bed and making his way to the door, unlocking it and opening it.

Mads stoof in the hallway, hands stuffed in the pockets of his track suit, a lazy but charming smile on his face.

“It’s almost midnight,” Hugh pointed out, but stepped aside, offering Mads the doorway. Mads slipped inside, didn’t turn as Hugh closed and relocked the door.

“Well hello to you too.” He noticed the script on the bedside table, inclined his head towards it. “Reading up for tomorrow?”

“Shouldn’t you be?” Mads shrugged a shoulder, and Hugh walked over to the bed, sitting down on the edge, folding his hands in his lap. “So what’s up?”

“Checking in. How’s your head?”

“Fine.” Mads nodded, pursed his lips for a moment, seemed to be thinking over what he might say.

“You weren’t really dizzy.” Hugh looked up at him, caught those amber eyes, and knew in that moment Mads knew _exactly_ what had happened. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Look, it’s not a big deal if you got turned on-“

“Not a big deal? Not a big deal that having you rut against me gave me a hard on? Please, Mads, please tell me how that’s not a big deal at all.” His cheeks were flushed even more, a pretty rose color that made his eyes stand out. It made him look younger, made Mads smile at him.

“It’s just friction,” he said, “You get used to it and you’ll be fine. We could get you used to it.”

Hugh stared at him for a moment, before he reached up, rake a hand back through his hair. “Are you suggesting we...we _practice_ the sex scene?” Mads gave another casual shrug of his shoulder.

“Wouldn’t hurt.” Hugh laughed, a loud break to the heavy silence that was about to settle over them, and shook his head. “Look, just give it a shot. It’s not any stranger than doing it in front of the camera.”

“I’d argue it is,” Hugh pointed out, standing up. “Here we’re just stripping down and rutting against each other like animals _for fun_.”

“You think that’s what they’re doing?” Hugh quirked up an eyebrow at Mads, who hadn’t moved. “Will and Hannibal.”

“Well, yeah. Why, you think it’s different?” Mads didn’t say anything, just walked around the bed, closing in on Hugh so the younger man’s heart began to race in his chest, his veins feeling too tight for all the blood they had to contain. He darted his eyes away for a second. “Look if we do this-“ he sighed, seemed to lose his words for a moment, “Just...don’t say anything to anyone. And we’re done if I think it’s too weird.” Mads nodded at him, and Hugh shifted from one foot to the other. “So...uh...should we just-“

“Let’s start from the beginning.” Mads reached out, sank one hand back into Hugh’s hair, stroked his thumb along the shell of his ear- left the other man feeling rigid suddenly, unable to move. Mads held him with his gaze, taking the final step in and tilting his head, flicking his eyes down to Hugh’s mouth before he kissed him. Hugh stood frozen, his heart in his throat suddenly, his mouth unmoving against Mads’s. Mads tilted his head, spoke into’s Hugh’s mouth, “ _Kiss me back_ ,” and Hugh drank them down, opening his mouth slightly and complimenting each movement of Mads’s lips with his own.

It wasn’t the first time the older man had kissed him. They’d filmed the beginning of this scene, with Hannibal kissed Will, grasping him as if the world would end if he let go- and Hugh realized Mads was doing just that, his other arm hooking around him, pulling him in so their chests crashed together and Hugh’s head was tilted back. It left him feeling exposed.

Hugh felt a tremble going through him. When Mads sucked on his lower lip, he clutched at his jacket, felt the slippery fabric slide between his finger tips. This didn’t feel like the kiss he’d gotten before. Then, on set underneath the lights and behind the lens of a camera, it had felt as if Hugh was someone else- he _was_ Will, and the man kissing him had been Hannibal. It had been alright like that.

But this- this wasn’t Hannibal. This was Mads, with his mouth tasting faintly of cigarettes and moving in a way that felt a step too far on the sweet side. This was Mads tugging on his hair gently and trying to lick his way into Hugh’s mouth- a way Hugh opened to him with a faint sound, an approval in a language they spoke without ever consciously learning it.

Mads’s hand left his hair, came down to work on the buttons of his shirt, popping them with one hand, an ease gracing his movements that was startling. Hugh thought, in the back of his fevered brain, that he should follow suit, and found the zipper to Mads’s jacket, pulling it down and listening to the metal sing as it opened, his hand pressing to the thin white t-shirt that covered his chest, warm from his body. Hugh moaned over the head, audibly, before his face when red, and he pulled back, staring back with wide eyes and parted, kiss swollen at the man who had been close to completely undoing him in a matter of a few short kisses.

“I don’t think this is helping,” he admitted, his hand still on Mads’s chest. He felt his heart beat, below it- couldn’t be sure if it was elevated or if he was simply crazy. Hugh was leaning towards his own insanity in that moment.

“Do you just want to get into bed?”

_God yes_.

Hugh hated whatever part of his brain had thought that, but nodded. “We filmed that scene- I...I don’t think we need to practice it.” Mads gave him the slightest nod, then pulled his jacket off, chucking it over the bed and onto a chair. Hugh watched him pull his t-shirt over his head, tossing it as well, and had to look away when he kicked his shoes off, fingers digging into the waist of his track pants.

He set his mind to getting his own clothing off, toed his shoes off and finished the last few buttons on his shirt, taking it off, leaving it to pool on the floor. He ran his fingers over the button of his pants, looked up, saw Mads was eyeing him, standing casually in his boxer briefs as if it were completely normal. Hugh swallowed the lump in his throat, closed his eyes, and opened his pants, stepping out of them and leaving them on the floor.

“Let’s get this over with,” he mumbled, feeling a tingling in his blood that emanated from the base of his spine- the raw beginnings of arousal, one he couldn’t blame on friction or anything silly like that. It was all due to the ghost of Mads’s mouth on his, the way he wanted to press right up to him that he couldn’t explain, and tried to chalk up to _stress_ -

He knew it was bullshit, but he clung to the lie.

Mads grabbed the blanket and tugged it back, and Hugh crawled into bed, feeling small even as he shifted his legs so Mads fit between them. Hugh grabbed the blanket, draping it over the small of Mads’s back, so it fell and pooled around them. With one hand bracing himself on the bed, Mads reached between Hugh’s legs to spread his thighs more, fingertips dancing far too close to the juncture of the man’s thighs, to sensitive skin and his balls, and Hugh gasped, trembled once, and then Mads was pressing right up against him, groin grinding into that sensitive area as both hands braced him on the bed now.

He rocked only a few times before Hugh _felt_ himself hardening, and shook his head. “Fuck,” he gasped, hated himself for gasping, and reached up, hands splayed on Mads’s chest, thinking to push him away, tell him this wasn’t going to work. They’d just have to figure something else out, put something between them, hidden by the sheets.

But he didn’t push Mads at all, instead let his fingers flex in his chest hair, once, felt him pushing against him- sucked in a breath because, oh, he must be crazy, but Mads felt _hard_ and yes, Hugh was sure he was losing his mind.

“Stop,” he finally breathed, and Mads froze, stayed pressed to him but didn’t move, felt like a spring ready to jerk away from Hugh if he asked. The younger man appreciated that. “It’s not working.” Hugh tried to shift, only opened his legs more, pressed against Mads and silently cursed all the fabric between them- and then cursed himself when he realized what he was thinking.

“Want me to get off of you?” Mads sounded sincere, almost worried, and Hugh didn’t know what to say. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, no request, and Mads watched him flounder over his silent words for a moment, before he leaned down, pushing Hugh down with his body until he was absolutely flat against the mattress, his hands trapped between them, on Mads’s chest, and the older man was breathing on his lips, so close.

Hugh leaned up, barely needing to move, and kissed him- lightly, just for a second, before his head fell back against the pillows, and then Mads’s mouth was on his, rougher than before- prying him open and delving his tongue into his mouth, sliding their bodies together again, arching slightly so Hugh could free his hands.

He wound his arms around Mads, clutched at the back of his bare shoulders, lost track for a moment what they were doing, what the reason for the two of them being pressed like this was. Hugh nipped at Mads’s tongue, once, felt it retracted and dared to bite his lip, blunt nails digging into his skin. This was the opposite of what he should be doing, but his mind couldn’t connect that thought with action- he broke the kiss to press his lips to Mads’s jaw, felt his stubble growing in slightly, breathed in the scent of cigarettes and musk and felt his cock jerk, confined in his underwear.

Something about that brought him back, and Hugh was pulling away, his cheeks tinging pink again. “Dammit,” he breathed, seemed speechless beyond that.

“What? That was good.” Mads wasn’t moving again, but still pressed against him. “Get a camera in here and I’m sure we could have just filmed the scene.” Hugh shook his head, wasn’t sure if Mads was being nice or if the man really thought Hugh had been trying to get into character.

“Yeah well my problem hasn’t really gone away.” One of Mads’s hands found his side, slid along bare skin down to his clothed hip, and Hugh fought down the urge to groan as Mads squeezed.

“Just think about something completely irreverent. Here,” he laid down carefully, his weight resting on Hugh, bringing an odd sort of comfort. He reached both hands up, buried them in his hair, disheveling the brown curls and clutching them between his fingers. “Just try.” He leaned down, kissing him again, gave Hugh a minute to adjust to the sensation and his weight, before he slid along him, carefully, creating a friction that was impossible to ignore.

Hugh was already hard- and he knew, like this, there was no way Mads wasn’t going to feel it. He tried to cry into his mouth, to stop him, but the sound was swallowed up and the words never fully formed. He closed his eyes, kissed the man back, clutched at the sheets and tried to think of something else. Anything else. Doing dishes, sitting board on a flight to the filming sight, getting a hair cut- antying mundane he could think of.

They all washed away with ever slide of Mads’s body. It took Hugh a moment, but he realized Mads was just as hard, the shape of his cock pressing against Hugh’s, leaving the younger man completely breathless.

“Not...working,” he forced out when Mads finally released his lips, tugged his hair so Hugh would tilt his head back and expose his throat so he could suck against it, felt his adam’s apple as Hugh tried to swallow. “You’re...hard too.”

“But it doesn’t bother me,” Mads admitted, fisting his hands tighter in Hugh’s hair. Truthfully, it didn’t. He accepted it as a possibility when shooting and moved on. Hugh couldn’t bring himself to that point.

“Stop,” Hugh breathed, and the hands in his hair were gone, Mads was rolling off him, settling on his back next to him in the bed and staring up at the ceiling. Hugh lay there for a moment, breathless, aching for the man’s weight to be on him again, for the friction he caused- wanting it and hating himself for wanting it. “I don’t think this is going to fix anything.” He turned his head, but Mads was still looking up at the ceiling, not at him. Hugh couldn’t make out his eyes, and the silence felt rather heavy, like it was sitting on his chest. Without much thought, he reached up, ran the back of his hand along Mads’s arm, didn’t think it could be intimate, could be heart breaking in any way. “But thanks for...trying.”

Mads nodding, sat up, pulling away from the touch, and Hugh stayed there as he climbed out of bed, hopped into his pants and threw his t-shirt on. In fact, he didn’t move until Mads was completely dressed, only sat up as he was getting back into his shoes, stood up when the man started for the door. He raced after Mads, even as he had the door partially open, gripped it and leaned in as the man turned to look at him.

Hugh froze, glancing at his eyes, then away, then back again. Bright, enough to draw him in- god, had they always been that perfect amber?- but there was something sad in the lines around his eyes, something disappointed. It made Hugh frown.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispered, then dared to lean in, press his mouth gently against Mads’s- didn’t know _why_ , just felt like he needed to, felt like the room was tilted and would only right itself if he kissed him, if he shared in his breath.

It was quick, and Mads gave him a half smile, charming, but failing to get beyond his mouth, and slipped out, without a word. Hugh closed the door, leaning against it and huffing a sigh, reaching up to scrub his hands over his face in confused frustration.

*

Hugh hated the fact that, past the lights on set, he could feel everyone looking at him. That was the thing that bothered him the most, while filming intimate scenes, for anything. The feeling of voyeuristic eyes, watching his every move. Even in character, it could be hard to forget.

As it was now, he was Will Graham- told himself he was the empath with a new found passion for murder and a taste for flesh, and his favorite was living, pulled taut along Hannibal Lecter, who was pressed behind him, Hugh on his hands and knees, ass pushed up. His underwear had been tugged down, to make sure the scene was seamless, and the only thing that separated him from having Mads’s cock pressing between the flesh of his ass was the man’s underwear. He rutted, once, then leaned over Hugh, reaching for the back of his neck and grabbing it, speaking in a voice that Hugh associated with _Dr. Lecter_ and not Mads himself.

“Remarkable boy,” he breathed, clutched his neck tighter, and Hugh groaned in response- thought the sound might be cut, but would claim it was for affect, just in case they wanted to keep it.

Truth be told, he liked the friction there, liked the thought of Mads touching him places no one had. He was so hard it hurt, had gotten to that point when they had filmed the scene he’d messed up the prior day- and now, with the position changed, he wondered how obvious it was to anyone watching. He tried to think it wasn’t, tried to not care, like Mads said he did.

Mads hadn’t said a word about his little midnight visit. He hadn’t said anything at all to Hugh, except in character, and that felt bad enough that Hugh almost would have rather had him tell _someone_ that he’d had him nearly naked and pressed down into a mattress. And not in front of a camera.

Mads sank a hand into Hugh’s hair, fisted and tugged, and Hugh arched back, lifting his head and baring his throat, giving a sharp cry, and a moment later there was a called _cut_ and a round of applause. Hugh fell forward, down onto his elbows, making it seem like he’d slipped- really needing to bury his face in the pillows for a moment and try to catch his breath. He felt Mads’s hands, pulling the fabric up over his ass- wanted to thank him, but when he pushed himself up the man was already off the mattress, accepting the track pants he was being handed and hopping into them quickly.

Hugh was given a pair of sweat pants, and he slid into them as quickly as possible, hoping to hide his excitement, and was relieved when he managed to slip away while everyone moved to get ready for the next scene- one, blessedly, without him.

Hugh grabbed a water bottle and made his way, in bare feet and without a shirt, through the set and off it, towards the small trailer where his next outfit was waiting. He judged he might have enough time to try and collect his thoughts, get his breath back and fall back into character before the next scene, if he could get some space.

What he needed, more than anything, was to jerk off and forget, but he wasn’t about to do either. He took a drink from the water bottle, capped it, and slipped into the trailer, thankful it was empty. He set the bottle down and ran his hand along one of the racks, Will’s clothing hanging on it, labeled with their appropriate scenes. He was about to pull a group of hangers off, when the door to the trailer opened. He turned, tense- relaxed when it was Mads, and only Mads, alone and soothing in his track suit- with no shirt under the jacket, left open.

Hugh remembered his hands on the man’s chest, and suddenly the image wasn’t soothing.

Mads gave him a brief nod, was going to walk past him towards his own wardrobe, but Hugh reached out, grabbed at his wrist, stopped him. Mads looked back at him, and the younger man looked down, at his collar bone.

“Look, about last night-“

“Don’t worry about it.” Mads turned, tried to give him a smile. Hugh accepted it, even if it felt wrong.

“At least we’re done with sex scenes, for a while. The one for the finale is going to kill me.” Mads nodded, seemed to be lost behind his eyes, and Hugh shifted, suddenly feeling uncomfortable- suddenly reminded that he was still hard, almost hurt. He wondered if it was noticeable. “Maybe I’ll be better at keeping...calm by then.” He laughed, but it felt false on his tongue. “Thanks for being a good sport about it and not taking it personally.”

Mads tensed, for a moment- a split second Hugh barely registered, and then suddenly he was moving, closing in and Hugh was pressed back against a counter, trapped, and there was a mouth on his, hot and needy. Mads tilted his head, and Hugh opened his mouth, clutched at his track jacket and pulled it further open, groaning.

He wasn’t Will then, and Mads wasn’t Hannibal. He was only Hugh, and he didn’t know what he was doing.

There was a hand between them, pressing into his groin, moving along the shape of his cock, and he groaned _fuck_ into the kiss, pushing into Mads’s palm. He might have kept his wits about him, had that touch never happened, he might have been able to pull away and say _stop_ again- and he knew Mads would have. He would have backed off the moment the word was half formed on Hugh’s lips-

But the man’s brain never got that far.

Hugh was aware of Mads pulling on his sweatpants, the waist band of his underwear, but when he pulled his cock free, hand wrapped around it, Hugh broke the kiss and groaned, another _fuck_ leaving his mouth as Mads stroked him, once. His grip was tight, strong, it made Hugh lose his breath, and he reached for the man’s own pants, happy when Mads didn’t stop him as he frantically grasped for him, pulled him free.

The older man leaned his head in, pressed his forehead to Hugh’s, stroked Hugh in a pace the younger man matched on him, thumb swiping over the head of his cock and dragging precum along his length.

“Mads,” Hugh breathed out, saw the older man smile, saw a light in his eyes that made Hugh’s stomach clench. He stroked Hugh faster, who increased his own pace, wanted it to be the same touch they were experiencing. He couldn’t explain it- was glad he didn’t have to.

Mads reached up, his free hand sinking into Hugh’s hair, yanking, causing Hugh to cry out and jerk his head back, and that was the end of all rational existence for the younger man. His body spasmed, and he came all over Mads’s hand, felt Mads’s own semen splashing his hand and wrist, along his arm, heard him groan but couldn’t see. His eyes were open but everything was white.

Hugh released him, slumped back, became aware that Mads wasn’t touching him, that somewhere there was a sinking running, but all he could do was clutch at the counter with his clean hand, try to breath. Carefully, he raised his head, felt Mads taking his arm, wiping his hand clean- even tucking him back in his pants. He opened his mouth to speak, but it was sealed, and he fell into the feeling of Mads’s tongue in his mouth, gave up everything for a brief second, before it was ripped from him.

When Mads walked away, tossing the paper towel in the trash and moving to his own wardrobe, he didn’t say a word. Hugh stared at him, until he pulled the track jacket off, ready to change- only then did he finally look away, cheeks pink, as he tried to figure out _what the hell_ had just happened.

*

Hugh took a deep breath, staring at the hotel door that seemed menacing, foreboding in that moment. The air felt heavy around him, and he tugged on the open collar of his button down, popped the third button and thought he was showing too much- brushed it off because he wasn’t sure it matter. He shifted his weight, took one more deep breath, then knocked, slowly, three heavy _raps_ , and then listened.

For a moment, he worried his call would go unanswered. It was late- it was after one AM, and he had no business bothering anyone at this point in the night. Yet he knew he wouldn’t sleep until he _did_.

And that’s how he found himself waiting on baited breath to see if Mads would open his door.

Finally he heard the sound of the mattress groaning, soft, shuffled footsteps, and the lock was being turned, the door opening. Framed by the dark of the room, Mads was in nothing but a loose fitting pair of pajamas pants, falling low under the slight curve of his belly, his hair ruffled. He rubbed one eye, saying nothing, and Hugh instantly felt bad, stupid even- he’d obviously woken him up.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, stuffing his hands into his jeans. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. I’ll just go-“ He was about to turn, felt the motion building in his legs, but Mads reached out, loosely grabbing his arm, and gently pulling him inside. Hugh followed, watching him close and relock the door, wasn’t all that shocked that he didn’t turn a light on, all he did was make his way back towards the bed and sit on the edge, raking a hand back through his hair. Hugh hesitated, then sat next to him, watched him reach for his bedside table, coming back with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Hugh raised his eyebrows, and Mads pulled on out, held it between his lips and offered them to Hugh, who shrugged and took one.

Mads lit Hugh’s first, and it was hard to have him leaning in that close, see vulnerable in what was sure to be a still partially asleep state. Hugh took a drag, exhaled as Mads lit his own, replaced the cigarettes and lighter on the table and brought back an ashtray, sitting it back behind them.

“What’s on your mind?” he finally asked after a long drag. Watching the end of the cigarette glow gave Hugh something to focus on, as he tried to come up with the words he wanted to say- whatever they might be.

“A lot,” Hugh finally said, holding his cigarette back and tapping it in the ash tray before taking another drag. “A fucking lot.”

Mads nodded, watched his own exhale of smoke. Hugh thought it was hypnotizing, what he could see in the dark. He should have known Mads would end up in a room that allowed smoking- or was getting away with it anyway. He was thankful for it, in that moment.

“Listen, earlier,” Hugh started, and Mads shook his head.

“Sorry.” He took a drag, exhaled, tapped his cigarette behind him without even looking. “Shouldn’t have done that.” He took another drag, and Hugh thought the logical response was to claim they were both at fault, admit it shouldn’t have happened-

“Don’t be. I...I liked it.” _Not even close to the plan_. He took another drag, looked away when he exhaled, and figured he was in too deep at this point to dance around it, with Mads or himself. “I’m fucked here, Mads. I don’t even know what’s going on.” He laughed, nervously, took one more drag and then ground his cigarette out in the tray. Mads moved it back to the bedside table, where he could still reach it. “Maybe I’m getting into the part too much. Maybe I’ve been away from Claire too long.”

Mads still said nothing, and Hugh watched the cigarette burning. He swallowed again, his throat felt dry, his tongue heavy.

Mads finally pressed the cigarette into the ash tray, turned and looked at him- his eyes were awake now, Hugh could tell. They had a light in them that made him feel hot and trapped in his clothing. “Why do you think that?”

“That I’m too into the part? How else can I explain the fact that you make me hot like a damn school girl. Isn’t that what Will probably feels around Hannibal?” Hugh sighed, was sure he could have been more eloquent about it, but was beyond that. He was sure Mads would rather he be frank, anyway, considering he had been jarred from sleep. “Look, this is just awkward, but I guess it’s better if we’re honest.”

Mads was still looking at him, into him, and it was making it hard to breathe. He reached out, slowly, grabbed Hugh by his bicep and turned him so they were facing each other, held him still as he moved through the near dark, kissed him for the whatever time Hugh wasn’t sure, he’d lost track and knew he’d never get it back again. He instead opened his mouth without being asked, fell into it and stopped questioning everything- just for tonight. Just for once. Maybe he needed it, needed it out of his system, needed to live it, experience it, and then he’d be _fine_.

In his stomach, he didn’t believe it, but he tried regardless.

He reached up, sank his hands into Mads’s hair, tugging on it, further disheveling it. He got a groan in response, before the man was shoving him flat on his back, awkward crawling over him, pressing his arms into the mattress to envelope him as he renewed the kiss, tugged at Hugh’s lip with his teeth, the sharp points jabbing into sensitive flesh and making him jerk up, gasping. A second later, and he was making noises around Mads’s tongue, losing his mind as he sucked on it, as he squirmed, hating the way his legs hung over the side of the bed.

“Let me move,” he gasped, nearly whined, and Mads was off him again, tugging him up to lay properly on the bed, Hugh’s head hitting the pillows with a force he hadn’t expected. He closed his eyes, for a moment, and then his shirt was being tugged, the buttons that had remained closed popping off as Mads opened him like a gift, pressed his mouth to his collar bone, down alone his chest, nipping at one nipple with the points of his teeth. Hugh tossed his head, wasn’t sure exactly how to even react until Mads was pressing a hand against his jeans, palming his cock, and he was nearly thrashing, needing everything gone, willing to let it all go.

He sat up, jarring Mads slightly, tore his open shirt off and tossed it, and Mads was opening his jeans, grabbing all the fabric and pulling it down, letting Hugh help him as the younger man tried to kicking his shoes off, turned into a breathy tangled mess. Mads chuckled at him, left him to suffer for a few moment as he worked free of everything- but then Hugh was naked, and it was hard to imagine how it had all suddenly happened. Hugh had a slight tinge of pink along his neck, chest- his cock hard, resting against his belly, beading precum on his flesh.

He opened his mouth to speak, but then Mads was on top of him, laying against him, pressing him into the mattress and sliding up along his body like he had before- except now, Hugh’s cock took all the friction and he cried out into the mouth that covered his, clutched at Mads’s back and dug his blunt nails in, rutting up against him and thinking he could get off on just the friction. But he wanted _more_.

He hooked a leg around Mads’s thighs, managed to roll them over to their sides, then pushed Mads to his back. He shifted, lower, tangled up in the man’s long legs, and tugged on his pants, just enough to free his cock. When he grasped it it was hot, heavy, filled his hand and he wondered how he hadn’t paid more attention to the feel of it in his hand earlier. Mads tilted his head back, eyes closed, as Hugh stroked him, tentatively, tried to figure out what he wanted to do.

He blinked, once, hid behind thick lashes for a moment, then made up his mind, and bowed his head, sucking on the tip of Mads’s cock and causing the man to let out a shocked groan. Hugh wanted to smile, couldn’t with his mouth full, and dared to take in more. It wasn’t unpleasant, he liked the feel against his tongue, the salt of the man’s skin- mostly, the way he could feel Mads straining to keep from pushing up into his mouth and throat, heard his fingers scrambling along the sheets.

He moved his head, slowly, feeling it out, wasn’t exactly sure he was doing it right until he finally felt Mads grab him, clutch at his waist and say in a voice gone hoarse, “ _Hugh_.” Hugh pulled off then, stroked his saliva slick length and watched him shiver, before Mads was trying to pull him up, to kiss him again. “Don’t want it to be over,” he mumbled into Hugh’s accepting mouth, and when he was stroking him, making Hugh squirm, teasing him for a moment before he sat up, leaving him breathy against the mattress.

Hugh watched him reach towards the nightstand, pull it open, grab something. Vaguely, in his mind, Hugh knew. And he couldn’t bring himself to be shocked, even as Mads looked at him, almost sheepishly, as if to ask _are we going to?_. Hugh rolled flat on his stomach, smiled, nervous but excited and with blood hot enough to not care.

“Try,” he whispered, leaving the _I can’t promise I’ll like it_ silent, but he thought of the feel of Mads pressed to him during filming, and he was sure, somewhere behind his cells, that he would like it. More than he’d ever want to admit.

Mads crawled over him, leaned down and kissed between his shoulder blades, trailing down along his spine in a tender map of Hugh’s nerves, in a way that seemed too intimate for what this should be. Hugh loved it, craved it suddenly, let him nip at the small of his back as the cap to the lube was popped, and he slicked a few of his fingers.

When he felt those large hands knead the flesh of his ass once, then pull one cheek aside, he inhaled, sharply. He felt teeth on the sensitive flesh, a loving nip, a whispered, “relax,” and the feeling of two slick fingers massaging along his hole. He tried to listen, couldn’t figure out if the feeling was a strange _good_ or a strange _bad_ \- he could only get as far as strange.

The touch lasted a few moments, until the initial tension was gone, and then slowly one finger slipped inside him. Hugh exhaled, huffed, squirmed a little, and the hand left his ass and pressed to his back as Mads pushed in past his second knuckle, until one finger was seated inside him. “Shhhh,” he soothed, petting skin, and moved, gently.

It didn’t hurt, Hugh was thankful for that. If anything, there was a dull pleasure to the movement of that one finger, slowly in and out of his body.

“Okay?” Hugh nodded, was about to verbally respond, but then a second finger joined the first, and he tossed his head, groaning. He felt it now, the presence, the stretch, as Mads worked his fingers still slowly, until he spread them and Hugh was gasping, pushing back, and then there was a third and he couldn’t see straight.

“F-uck,” Hugh groaned, pushing his shoulder up and hanging his head. “That feels... _good_.” Mads chuckled at how shocked he sounded, leaned forward to kiss his spine again.

“I wouldn’t make you feel bad,” he whispered, as he curled his fingers. The world stopped in that moment, Hugh saw white and shook and cried out and felt his cock, trapped between his body and his mattress, twitch and ache. Mads did it again, didn’t give Hugh a chance to recover, and the man was shaking his head.

“I’ll cum,” he whimpered, sounded broken and didn’t care. Mads’s fingers retracted, and the bed shifted as he crawled off, for a moment, before he returned, having left his pajama pants on the floor, and squirted lube into his palm, stroking himself and trying not to drive into his own fist- Hugh had him feeling frantic, unlike anything he’d felt in quite some time.

“Raise your hips,” he whispered, but Hugh rolled over instead, on his back and watched up as he propped himself up on the pillows.

“No,” he said, spreading his thighs. “Like this. Like we were originally practicing.”

Mads couldn’t say no to that.

He fit perfectly between his thighs, rubbed one affectionately as he stroked himself one last time, then lined his head up with Hugh’s entrance. He found and held his gaze as slowly he inched in, watched the way Hugh’s face seemed to melt into a new sense of bliss. When his eyes finally closed, Mads was half way in, and Hugh was panting.

“All the way,” he breathed, and Mads listened, finished his stroke and buried himself in Hugh’s body. He leaned over, mouth open, trying to remember how to breathe properly. Hugh was tight, clenching him, pulsing, it was almost too much- it was everything he wanted, and it was real.

He was careful, when he pulled back, pushed back in slowly, set a pace that was agony for him but helped Hugh adjust to the larger stretch, until he was squirm, digging his heels into the mattress and spreading his thighs as far as he could. He could feel Mads brushing his prostate, but it was slow, gentle- too much so. It tormented but it didn’t promise relief.

Hugh felt Mads grip his thighs, felt him drive in faster, and smiled, arching his back, a _yes_ hissing from his lips. Mads smiled, Hugh could make out the points of his teeth and it was charming, and he almost wanted to laugh. For a moment, he did- a chuckle that dissolved into a moan, and Mads had a hand around his cock then, squeezing him exquisitely.

“Harder,” Hugh breathed, “Don’t hold b-back.” He cured the stutter but Mads seemed to like it, snapping his hips suddenly and then Hugh was screaming, tossing his head as Mads stroked him and he clutched at the sheets, thighs quaking. They ached from being spread so far, the bone and muscle screaming, but he didn’t care. He cared about the man between his legs, and in that moment, Mads was it. There was nothing else.

“I’m gonna,” Hugh started, feeling it building in his spine, his belly. He sucked on his lower lip for a moment, sighing as he released it. “Tell me I can.”

Mads was quiet for a moment, a breath or two- contemplating the request, and then he was so far inside Hugh the younger man thought he might split in two- pleasantly so. “For me, Hugh,” he breathed, tightened his grip, and Hugh screamed- louder than he was sure he ever had in a bed, shook as Mads pounded into his prostate, as his hand milked him through his orgasm. He shot along his belly, left a mess behind, couldn’t see or hear, could only _feel feel feel_.

The first thing he heard as he came down was Mads’s breath, then a groan, his name and a few words he didn’t recognize, and then he felt warm and Mads was still inside him, filling him. Hugh gasped for air, felt as if he had held his breath, and the man between his thighs hung his head, trying to catch his breath.

Neither moved for a long moment, until Mads finally pulled out, left Hugh with an emptiness that had him whining. He hated it. He wanted the man back.

Mads got off the bed, managed to grab the tissues, settled back down to clean off Hugh’s stomach, wipe the excessive slickness of his own cock. He tossed the tissues off the bed in the general direction of the waste basket, missed and didn’t care.

Without a word, he was grabbing his cigarettes again, pulling two out and holding them both in his mouth, lighting them. Hugh accepted the one that was handed to him gratefully, liked that when he put his mouth on it Mads’s had already been there. He took a long drag, exhaled, waited, didn’t think he could speak. Not first.

“You okay?” Mads finally asked, blowing smoke away from Hugh and holding the ash tray out for him. He nodded.

“I don’t think okay covers it.” He laughed, a little nervous. “Might have been the best sex I’ve had in a long time. Remind me to get more into my parts in the future, I could go for that again.” Mads was quiet for a second, took another long drag, the end of the cigarette a pleasantly glow in the dark.

“You don’t need a role for this,” he said, waving his hand briefly. “Anytime you want. Just...let me know.”

Hugh’s smile faded, and for the first time he wondered if he hadn’t been the only one really feeling this. He’s gotten that Mads was aroused, but- his voice, it sounded different. And contemplating this happening _again_ hadn’t been on Hugh’s mind yet. But now that it was- he wanted it to. So, so badly.

“I feel like I’m about to do a walk of shame,” he admitted, grinding his cigarette out and watching Mads do the same.

“So stay. Sleep in here tonight.” He set the ash tray back on the nightstand and slopped down onto his back, taking a deep breath. Hugh hesitated, thought it was foolish and silly and made this seem far too intimate-

But then he was sliding down the mattress, rolling on his side and curling into Mads, resting his head and one hand on his chest, teasing the ashen hair he found there, and smiling when the man’s hand ran along the knots of his spine, held him loosely- comforting, not over bearing.

Suddenly, Hugh was very sure this would happen again. And he couldn’t suppress the odd skip in his heart beat over it.


End file.
